Sacrifice
by Sydy
Summary: People will do strange things when they believe the safety of a friend is in danger; things people never thought possible. It started as any normal day for the Axis Powers. They woke up and were attacked by the Allies, who hoped to end the war. Italy was on the side lines waving his white flag and hoping not to get hurt, or so everyone thought.
1. White Flag

**Me: I don't own Hetalia. If I did then Germany being Holy Rome would be canon and not just everyone hoping so.**

**Spain: And I would get more tomatoes.**

**Me:There's some in the refrigerator. **

**(Spain runs out of the room in the direction of the kitchen) **

* * *

"Okay, is everyone here? England?" America asked as the meeting was called to order.

"Present," England responded.

"China?"

"Panda."

"Russia?"

"Da,"

"France?  
"Oui."

"And of course the Hero is here. Now that that's settled lets get down to business. Who want's to start?"

"I will," England stood from his seat and moved to the front of the room, taking America's place. "I believe this war has been going on for far too long. We need to stop the Axis before they can advance any farther than they have. Who agrees?" England asked.

The Allies all raised their hands and England began laying out the basics of his plan to stop Germany. Though with any meeting it was not long before a fight broke out between the group.

"This will never work, England!" America yelled in frustration.

"Of course it will you idiot," England yelled back in an equally loud and frustrated voice.

"No it won't," America retorted.

"And why not?" England asked.

"B- because..." America hesitated, "because it won't."

"That's not a real reason!"

This continued on in a similar manner to the other meetings leaving the nations frustrated until Russia pulled out his pip.

"Stop fighting, da?" He looked at the two who immediately stopped yelling. "Good, now sit down and let us make something we all agree on."

England and America both nodded before taking a seat at the table and looking at the large country. The group eventually settled on a day to attack and left the meeting before any more arguments could ensue.

Three Days Later

The Axis Powers were surrounded. The Allies had once again encircled the three nations.

"This is it! Just give up," the self- declared hero nation yelled. "We arn't leaving until this war is over!"

Germany drew his gun preparing for a fight, while Japan unsheathed his katana. When Italy saw Germany's gun he immediately began waving his white flag over his head.

"Please don't hurt me, I have relatives in your country. Don't hurt me, I'll make you pasta," Italy pleaded.

Italy, afraid the Allies would hurt him, tried to run out of the line of fire. France took this as an attempt of advancing and dove into the battle. Soon all the nations were absorbed with the battle and no one noticed Britain sneak out of the fight and circle it until he was behind Germany. No one but Italy, who watched in horror as the scone loving nation drew a gun and took aim at Germany, who did not notice the impending danger his life was in.

"Germany!" Italy yelled as he ran across the battlefield toward his friend. Their bodies collided and a single gunshot broke through the cacophony of the fighting nations effectively silencing them.

"Get off me," Germany grunted as he pulled himself out from under the limp form of Italy, "What were you thin-" Germany stopped mid- sentence when he saw the growing pool of blood forming under his friend.

Everyone watched silently as Germany cautiously rolled Italy onto his back and stared in horror at the amount of blood flowing from the gunshot wound in his side.

"Italy, wake up," Germany pleaded. He continued to beg Italy to wake up when a sled appeared on the horizon and flew right toward the solomon nations.

"Hey, are you guys fighting again?" Finland asked as he approached on his sled.

'Vat? Finland, vhat are you doing here?" Germany asked finally looking up from his the sleeping form of his friend.

"Is it Christmas already?" America asked in hopes of lightening the mood.

"No, I just enjoy flying sometimes," Finland responded.

"Mr. Finland, do you have a first- aid kit and some tools with you?" Japan politely asked.

"I do, why... oh I see."

Finland landed his sled and Japan ran over and grabbed the construction tools while the Nordic country ran to Italy's side with the first-aid kit in hand. He dropped to his knees by Germany, who promptly began cleaning and wrapping the injured country's side as best he could without increasing the blood flow.

"How is he doing?" Japan asked as he walked up with a makeshift stretcher in hand.

"His breathing is ragged, pulse is weak and he is losing a lot of blood."

Japan, Germany, and Finland carefully transferred Italy onto the stretcher Japan had prepared.

"If Italy dies I will personally kill whoever did this to him," Germany addressed the Allied nations.

The Allies watched as Germany and Japan gently lifted the stretcher with Italy on it and walked to the awaiting boat. As soon as the trio was out of sight everyone turned on England with angry glares.

"What the hell were you thinking?" America yelled at the British nation who sank to his knees with the gun limply held in his hand.

"I didn't mean to shoot Italy," England choked out.

"But you still shot him," Finland walked to the group of countries surrounding England.

"I meant to hit Germany," he whispered.

"That's no better," China stated.

"I'll restate Amerika's question, what the hell were you thinking?" Russia asked.

"I guess I wasn't thinking," England bowed his head.

"No you weren't," France said sadly.

"I just wanted the war to be over," he paused, "I didn't want this to happen...Oh, God if Germany knows I'm the one who did this he will kill me."

America shook his head in pity at his big brother and turned to go home, silently praying Italy wouldn't die. As much as England can be annoying and uptight he didn't want to see him get hurt.

"God, help us all if Italy dies," France muttered before he took leave from the heavy hearted group.

One by one each country left until only England remained, regretting what he did.

"I'm not much of a gentleman anymore, am I?" England questioned the deserted island before getting up and slumping off to his own boat.

At this time Romano was walking to Spain's house when he felt a sharp pain in his chest and dropped to his knees clutching his chest. Spain came running out of his house and to the side of his foul mouthed friend.

"What's wrong?" Spain asked worried for his friend.

"Veneziano," Romano gasp, "I have to get to the Potato Head's house."

"Wait! What happened, what's wrong with Italy?" Spain questioned before chasing after Romano.

Romano ran the whole way to Germany's house praying his brother was okay.

"I swear if Germany hurt Veneziano in any way I will kill him," he muttered to himself.

He picked up his pace when Germany's house came into view.

"Germany, let me in!" Romano banged on the front door of the German's house. "Maybe he's not home. Then where could my brother be?"

Romano turned his back to the door in exasperation when he saw Germany and Japan running up the path carrying something between them.

"Veneziano," he whispered. Before taking off down the path.

"What happened?" Romano shouted down the path.

"He was shot," Germany responded when they got in earshot of each other, "Take my key and unlock the door."

Romano stood frozen in place staring at the blood soaked uniform of his little brother wondering who could be so cruel as to shoot the cheery Italian nation.

"Take my keys and open the door before he loses even more blood. You can stare at him after we get him help," Germany commanded.

Romano was pulled from his depressing thoughts and opened the door to allow Germany and Japan to carry Italy's sleeping form into the house.

"Who shot my brother?"

"I don't know," Germany responded.

"How can you not know who put a hole in Veneziano's side!"

"Zey were behind me and Italy tackled me. There was no way that I could see who it was."

"Whatever," Romano replied before taking a seat in Germany's living room.

"What do you think you are doing?" Germany asked.

"I'm staying here to make sure my fatello is taken care of."

"Fine," Germany replied, he really didn't want to deal with this at the moment, "There's a room upstairs you can use."

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**So I don't know if this is any good. I hope it is. It's just something I thought up one day during school and started writing. I've actually worked ahead of what I posted in hopes of not falling behind. I'll post more after I see if anyone likes the plot line. So please review. :)**


	2. Feelings

Germany walked into the room and sat at Italy's bedside listening to the steady beeping of the heart monitor and watched the steady rise and fall of his chest. He had just been informed that Italy slipped into a coma but has been stabilized for now, he lost a lot of blood and it will take awhile for him to recover... if he does. Germany took a seat in the empty chair next to the bed.

He was experiencing the strongest mixture of emotions he had felt in a long time. He was angry at whoever did this to Italy, and a part of him wanted to hunt them down and kill them now. That is the emotion he is used to and can control, anger. Anger is easy to control, but what isn't easy to control is the other feeling. This other emotion is the sole reason he remained in his chair. He was feeling an overwhelming amount of despair. He was worried that Italy would never wake up and that scared him more that he would care to admit to anyone, and he was feeling a large amount of sadness that made him want to cry over the weak form of his ally but he managed to suppress that part. Germany slowly began to realize how much he had grown to enjoy the Italian's cheery company. He didn't know what he would do if Italy were to die. He rose from his seat and left the silent room almost as quickly as he entered.

"Germany, where are you going?" Japan asked.

"Out," and he was gone before Japan could ask any further questions.

Japan stared at the door as it closed wondering if he should go after his friend but decided to give him some time alone.

"I'll go after him if he's out for too long."

Germany walked silently down the streets until he came to a park bench and sat down.

"Why would he save my life? I've never been very nice to him, but he saved my life," Germany had begun to question wether or not he would have been able to do the same for Italy if it were Italy's life on the line.

"Hey West," Prussia sat next to his brother.

"What do you want, Prussia?"

"What's wrong? You seem sad."

"I'm fine. Leave me alone," Germany mumbled.

"No your not. If you were fine you wouldn't have said it like zat. So tell me what's wrong"

"Why do you care?"

"Because I'm your awesome older brother and it's my job to make sure you're okay," Prussia replied.

"I'm worried about Italy. He was shot and isn't doing well."

"What? That's what's bothering you? You're worried about that useless idiot?" Prussia laughed.

"He is not useless and he's my friend," Germany was getting angry at his brother.

"Well that's stupid. I wouldn't worry about him because I'm awesome and it's not like he is a useful ally anyway. You'll probably be better off without him," Prussia smugly said.

"Leave. Now," Germany nearly yelled.

"Fine, I can tell when my awesome presence isn't wanted."

Germany sat there seething in anger at his brother's ignorance toward the feelings of others. He waited until he was sure his older brother, Prussia, was gone before he got up to return to his home and check on Italy. As he walked home he nearly ran into Japan who came around a corner.

"Oh, Germany there you are. I was looking for you," Japan said.

"Why were you looking for me?"

"You have been gone for a long time. I wanted to make sure you were okay. Are you- okay?"

"No."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No,"Germany said.

"Okay," Japan knew Germany would talk if he wanted.

"I-I'm scared... that Italy won't- wake up," Germany admitted after a moment of thought. "He's my best friend and the first person who actually wanted to be around me and not because my boss made them or they needed something from me."

"Oh..."

"What if he dies, Japan?" Germany asked.

"I don't know," Japan responded honestly, "but lets not do anything until something like that happens."

Germany nodded and began walking home again with Japan closely behind him.

* * *

Spain quietly opened to Romano's room and saw his friend laying on his bed facing the wall. He walked over and sat at the edge of Romano's bed and placed his hand on the softly shaking shoulder of the Italian.

"Romano? Are you okay?" Spain quietly asked.

"What do you think, idiota?" Romano replied with half the effort he normally put in when he spoke to the Spaniard.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," Romano snapped. "I-I just, I don't know what to do. My fratello nearly bled out two weeks ago. Now he is in a coma and has shown absolutely no signs of improvement, and I felt the whole thing. On top of that no one in this stupid house knows who shot Veneziano so I have no one to blame for all of this. I want to be able to blame Germany but he seemed to concerned about my fratello for me to bring myself to blame him, and I- I- I just... don't know what to do. I can't sleep because everytime I close my eyes I see him laying there with his uniform jacket soaked in his own blood and his face paler than I've ever seen it," Romano paced the room as he spouted in one breath all of his worries. He stopped in front of the wall resting his forehead against it and banged his fist on the wall trying to stop the tears that threatened to spill over.

"It'll be okay mi amigo," Spain tried to comfort his friend.

"How can you say that?" Romano asked, "You can't know that."

Spain sat in silence not knowing what he could say that would help his friend feel any better. It hurt him to see his tomato in so much pain and worry and he didn't know what to do to comfort him.

"Every time I close my eye's all I see is him lying there with his coat soaked in his own blood and his face paler than I've ever seen it," Romano quietly repeated to himself.

Spain got off the bed and stood behind his friend. He gently turned Romano around to face him and pulled him into a hug. For once Romano didn't resist the physical contact and slowly reciprocated the action. After a moment tears began to silently fall down Romano's cheeks and land on Spain's shirt and his shoulders gently shook in silent sobs. Spain stood there rubbing gentle circles on Romano's back as his friend released the tears he had tried so hard to keep in with tears of his own slipping down his cheeks. It broke his heart to see the Italian like this.

"I'm sorry about that," Romano said when the sobs subsided and he whipped the last of his tears away.

"You don't have to apologize for caring about your brother," Spain said seriously.

"I'm going to go see Veneziano," Romano mumbled.

Spain sighed and sat on the edge of the bed and placed his head in his hands. It was killing him to see his Tomato so depressed.


	3. Why?

**Hey sorry for forgetting to put an author's note in the last chapter. It slipped my mind while I was editing it. Also I feel really bad for the uber depressing chapter. I realize there was a lot of depressing things going on in it but it was all necessary to show how Italy's actions effected those close to him. So for an apology I decided to upload the next chapter early. Also I won't be following a schedule for my updating, I'll just be posting new chapters whenever I feel like it or if I feel bad for what I last posted.**

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It had been four weeks since Italy had been shot and not a day had gone by that Germany had wondered why Italy had saved him. Romano had been staying with him to keep an eye on his brother and Japan had decided to stay to make sure Germany was okay. Spain dropped by about every other day to check on Romano. Germany hadn't seen Prussia since the day in the park and that was fine by him.

Germany sat in a chair by Italy's bed watching the sleeping form of his friend while pretending to read a book he couldn't concentrate on the words on the pages without thinking back to the multiple times Italy had tried to get him to stop reading or working to play football with him. He should have played with him more, he might never get another chance to play football with him.

"A-ah," Germany was pulled from his depressed thoughts by a soft moan.

"Italy?" Germany asked hopefully.

"G-g-germany?" Italy stuttered.

"How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?" Germany asked.

"I'm okay," Italy lied. He could tell something was on his friend's mind and he wanted to make sure he was okay before he complained about any of his own pain.

"Good..." Germany paused.

"Ve~ Germany? Are you okay?"

"Why?"

"What do you mean, why?" Italy asked confused by the Germans question.

"Why did you save me?"

"Why wouldn't I save you? You're my best friend," Italy said innocently.

"Well...I haven't always acted like one," Germany honestly said.

"That doesn't matter. You're still my friend and I wouldn't want something to happen to you," Italy smiled up at his friend, after a moment of the German staring back in silence he added, "Do you remember what you told me when we first became friends?"

"No, what?"

"You told me that you would likely treat me bad. I didn't care then and I still don't care. France was worse," Italy added the last part to try and lighted Germany's mood.

Germany sat in silence thinking about what Italy just told him. _How could he be so light about this? _He wondered.

"I should tell Romano and Japan that you're awake," Germany finally said.

"My brother's here?"

"Ja. I'll go get him."

Germany left the room and found Romano laying face down on a bed in one of the spare rooms.

"Hey, Italy woke up," Germany said as he entered the room.

"What? He's awake?" Romano sat up and stared at Germany in shock before jumping up and running past the blond and straight to his brother's room. He stopped in the doorway and stared at his brother in shock before running forward and hugging him.

"Don't ever do something like that again to me you idiota!" Romano yelled at his brother.

"Ve~... Romano you're hurting me," Italy moaned.

"Sorry, Veneziano," Romano released him from the hug after a moment more and took a seat in the now vacant chair at the side of the bed.

"It's okay," Italy responded.

"Hey, how are you feeling? Germany told me you woke up," Japan stood in the doorway watching the two brothers.

"I'm okay. What happened exactly?" Italy asked.

"You don't remember?" Japan asked, Italy merely shook his head in response.

"You pushed Germany out of the way of a bullet but got hit by it instead. You've been in a coma for the past four weeks," Japan slowly explained watching for Italy's reaction to this.

"Really?" Italy questioned.

"Ja," Germany said as he returned to the room with a glass of water and something in his other hand. "Drink this and take this. It will help with the pain."

Italy accepted the glass of water gratefully and downed half the glass in one gulp and swallowed the pills.

"You should get some rest now," Germany said after he watched Italy swallow the pills.

Italy nodded his head and was soon fast asleep. He slept most of the following week, waking up a few times each day but never for long. Germany was always there when he would wake up and would quickly leave and bring him hot soup and a cold glass of water for him to eat before he would fall asleep again.

* * *

Romano sat staring at a paper in his hand when Spain walked in and sat down beside him.

"What's that?" Spain leaned over onto Romano trying to read what what scrawled onto the page which Romano made sure to keep out of the Spaniards reach. Spain continued to lean further over until he fell out of his seat and landed on the ground with a loud uff.

"Nothing. I'm just trying to figure out who shot Veneziano... Stop looking at me like that, you're the one who fell, idiota," Spain was looking up at him in shock from falling to the floor.

"Why are you still obsessing over this? It's been two weeks since he woke up and he has recovered quickly. Roma, he can walk around fairly easily now and isn't in much pain anymore," The truth was that after waking up Italy's condition had improved a great amount and he had begun eating at he dinner table with the rest of them.

Spain picked himself off the ground and snatched the paper from Romano's hands while he was distracted.

"Because they shouldn't be able to shoot my fratello and walk away with no form of punishment," the Southern half of Italy yelled in anger as he tried to take his notes back from Spain.

"Roma, don't you think they feel bad about what they did," Spain paused and looked from the paper he took and back up to Romano before continuing, "The bullet was meant for Germany. They weren't aiming to hit Italy. Now you've made a list of all the nations in the allied forces and crossed off all but three."

"Yeah. I know. Russia, England and America. Their the only ones that make sense, and if they felt bad for shooting Veneziano then they would have dragged their sorry butts down here and apologized for what they did." Romano spat before walking out the door and leaving the house with Spain staring after him.

Spain stared after him in fear for whoever would be on the receiving end of Romano's rage. He had never heard so much rage come from the Southern half of Italy and Spain was scared he would do something he would regret.

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**I hope this chapter was a bit more uplifting but I think I kind of killed the mood again with the last part. Let me know what you all think in a review. It helps and I love constructive criticism. **

**Special thanks to those who have favorite, followed, and reviewed.**


	4. I'm Sorry

**Hey I'm back with a new chapter! So I have school starting next Monday and I'm not sure how that will effect my ability to update but I'll try and update at least once every other week depending on how I'm feeling and what kind of reactions I get from the previous chapter.**

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"Ve~ Germany where are you going?" Italy asked from the couch. Germany had refused to let him move around too much even though he was feeling a lot better.

"The market, we're running low on ingredients. Is there anything you want?"

"Pasta!" Italy shouted in excitement jumping up and down. He hadn't had pasta since before he was shot.

"Okay," Germany turned back to the door preparing to leave.

"Wait, Germany!" Italy called as the blond opened the door.

"Ja?" Germany looked at the Italian curiously.

"Can I come with you?"

"Nein. Italy, you need stay here."

"Please Germany. I promise I'll stay with you and tell you if I'm in to much pain and I wont run off and get myself in trouble. I just want to go outside. It gets boring sitting in here all day. Please let me come with you, please." the Italian begged from where he sat on the couch. He had gotten on his knees so he could look at his friend over the couch easier. He spoke so fast Germany had to take a minute to make sure he understood everything that had been rambled off.

"Fine," Germany sighed, " but you will stay with me and tell me if you need a rest. I won't have you dropping on me because you exhausted yourself."

"Yay! I'll go get dressed," Italy happily went up to his room to change his clothes while the German waited at the door for his ally to return.

He did not have to wait long for Italy to come down the stairs dressed in his uniform bottoms and black button- up shirt and matching tie.

"Germany? Where's my jacket?" Italy asked in curiosity as he came down the stairs.

"It was ruined when..." Germany stopped, unsure of how to say that the jacket had been soaked in blood and stained beyond repair with a hole ripped in the side where Italy had been shot.

"Oh..." Italy knew what he was trying to say. His jacket got ruined when he was shot. "Well I guess I can get a new one later. Let's go," Italy walked out the door and to the car sitting in the driveway with Germany following close behind.

"Ve~, Germany, what are we getting at the store?" Italy asked.

"Some groceries and some stuff for the first aid kit, we're almost out of bandages for you and sanitizing spray-"  
"Sorry," Italy interrupted.

"Why are you apologizing, Italy?"

"Well... you all have been having to take care of me a lot and-"

"Stop. Italy, don't even let yourself believe for one second that you have been a burden in any way shape or form," Germany had parked the car and was now turned in his seat to look at his friend with a stern face.

"But Germany-"

"Nein, Italy."

"But-" Italy tried to start again but stopped when he felt the Germans hand on his shoulder and looked up to see his blue eyes staring straight at him.

Italy stared into his ice blue eyes and saw something in them that he had never seen before. It was just below the surface, almost as if he were trying to keep it hidden, but was failing. Italy could not figure out what it was; he had seen the German angry, sad, and even seen glimpses, however small they were, of happiness but he had never seen this in his eyes.

"Lets go," Germany was the first to break eye contact, and just like that the look in his eyes was gone.

Germany turned to pull the keys out of the ignition and climbed out of the car and started the short walk to the grocery store from the parking lot. Italy followed close behind still thinking about what he saw in Germany's eyes.

"Italy?"

"Ve~?" Italy was pulled from his thoughts by the German's concerned voice. He was placing the groceries in the car. Had they really already purchased all the food?

"Are you okay? You haven't said anything since the car ride," there it was again. That look, that emotion hiding just beneath the surface. Would he ever figure out what it is?

"Ve~ I'm fine, just a bit tired," and it was true. Italy had not done this much walking since he was shot and his side was beginning to hurt because of the pressure he put on it when he walked.

"Okay, look, there's a bench right over there. Why don't you sit down and rest for a bit while I go and get the first aid supplies. I'll be right back," Germany said before walking down the busy street to another store.

Italy took a seat at the wooden bench and gently massaged his side trying to get the growing pain to subside. He gazed up at the blue sky and watched the clouds float by. The weather was beginning to cool off and he was appreciating the change in weather. He was happy Germany had agreed to let him come along, but he still couldn't get the image of those blue eye's out of his mind.

"Italy?"

"Huh? Oh hello England," Italy's mood suddenly dropped.

"How are you?" England asked.

"Well my side hurts still and its been nearly six weeks since you shot me, but Germany let me come to the market with him today, so I'm good."

"Look, I wanted to apologize for shooting you. I didn't mean for it to hit you," England tried to explain.

"Right, you meant to kill Germany," Italy stated.

"I wasn't thinking. I just wanted the war to be over. I'm sorry."

"Ve~ I'm sorry too... I forgive you for shooting me, but I don't think I can forgive you for what you were trying to do. Germany is my best friend and you tried to kill him. If I hadn't seen you then Germany would be dead. I don't think I can forgive you for that."

"I just wanted the war to be over," England stated for what felt like the millionth time.

"There are a lot of other things you can do to end a war instead of shooting a country," Italy stated.

"Italy, lets go," Germany called from across the street.

Italy took one last glance at England and turned to walk across the street and stand at his friend's side.

"Are you okay Italy?" Italy only nodded his head and continued staring at the ground as the pair walked back to the car to return home with the groceries.

England watched as the pair returned to their car before turning to go to his own home in a worse mood than that which he was in when he left his house.

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**I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I wish I could tell you the mood would pick up from all this serious stuff but unfortunately this will be a serious story. Please tell me what you think. It's helpful to know you all like this story and it becomes more fun to write when I know people enjoy it.**

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H


	5. Broken

**Hey, I hope this chapter finds everyone in good tidings. I have school starting on Monday and I don't know how that will effect my ability to update quickly. Just know that I won't abandon this story. I will try and write fast so I can post new chapters, even if they are short.**

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Italy's words rang through England's head as he lay staring at the ceiling above him. What hurt him most was that the Italian wasn't mad about being shot, he could get past that after the wound fully healed. No, the Italian was mad that he had tried to kill Germany. It was like the Englishman had crossed an invisible line of trust and he would never be able to walk back across it. Italy would never be able to trust him near Germany, ever again.

It also didn't help that all of his previous allied would either not speak to him or give him a sympathetic glance, other than Russia who after the initial action seemed perfectly fine, if not a little happy to know the Italian was in pain. He abruptly sat up in bed and threw his pillow at the wall in frustration at his own stupid actions and loudly cursed himself for not properly thinking through his actions and their consequence, like a gentleman. But how was he to know Italy would see him or even peace together what he was doing if he did notice him. Hot tears trailed down his cheeks as he paced his room trying to sort through the overwhelming thoughts running through his head.

All the thoughts buzzing in his head kept him from noticing the creaking of his bedroom door opening and the American who came waltzing in until he grabbed the Brit by the arm and gently shook, trying to calm him down.

"Dude, England, calm down! What's wrong?" America tried to figure out what was wrong with his friend. He hadn't been the same since the incident on the island with Italy. Sure he shot him but he had heard from Japan that the Italian had woken up and since had been healing fairly quickly, and even Germany had calmed down and was not a real threat to the guilty party anymore.

England looked at his friend with his green eyes brimming with tears and choked on a sob. America looked into his eyes and tenderly pulled him into a gentle embrace. England melted into the embrace and quietly sobbed into the American's shoulder as America rubbed gentle circles into his back trying to calm him down. For the first time ever he made no attempt to comment on his heroic actions.

They stood there for a long time, the only sounds coming from England's soft crying and occasional hiccup.

"I'm sorry," England muttered, breaking the silence that had fallen over the pair.

"It's fine- England, what happened?" America asked.

"I talked to Italy today," his reply was spoken almost as quietly as Canada.

"Oh... How'd that go?"

"How do you think?" England snapped at America's stupid question. "I tried to apologize to Italy for shooting him."

England turned away from America and began pacing the room trying to keep his emotions under control. America gave him space and sat on the edge of the bed watching his friend walk back and forth. He was scared that England would loose control and cast some kind of spell that would backfire on himself and everyone else and make everything worse.

"Okay, well what happened? I mean... it's Italy. Whatever happened can't be that bad, right?" England stopped his pacing and turned to look at America.

"Right, it can't be that bad... Right?" England laughed, "Do you know what he said to me?"

"No, I wasn't there," America stated dumbly.

"He said- he said he doesn't think he can ever forgive me for trying to kill Germany," the tears flowed freely again and once again he dropped to his knees in defeat, his hands resting in front of him and he stared at them as if they had committed some kind of unforgivable sin. But they had hadn't they?

_No one will ever be able to forgive me. _England thought bitterly.

America sat on the bed unsure of how to comfort the man who had raised him. He looked tense and did not appear as though he wanted to be held in any way at the moment, but at the same time he looked in need of something. America just didn't know what he needed.

"You know what the worst part is?" England didn't wait for a response before he continued, "Italy isn't mad that I shot him. He said he couldn't forgive me for trying to kill Germany. He looked like he was disappointed that I had done that. What am I going to do?"

"Well you can apologize-" America cautiously started.

"You idiot, I just said I tried to apologize to Italy, but he ignored me," England interrupted America before he could finish his thought..

"You didn't let me finish. Do you think that maybe you were apologizing to the wrong person?" asked the hero.

"Who else would I apologize to? I shot Italy and only Italy!" the Brit was getting irritated now.

"Germany," America whispered.

"What?"

"Apologize to Germany," America picked up his voice. He knew his words wouldn't sit well with the distressed Englishman.

"If I tell Germany what I did he will kill me...or at least try," England said harshly.

America stared at him them looked around the room. The pillow sat on the dresser on the opposite wall. A glass of water had been tipped over and was now dripping down the side and pooling on the hardwood floor of the bedroom. A mirror sat precariously on the edge of the dresser, much like England it was in danger of falling over the edge and shattering into a million small pieces. He looked back at the dejected nation who sat on the floor and didn't know what else to say to him.

"It was just a thought," he said before walking out of the room and down the long hallway lined with pictures and to the stairs. He walked slowly down the stairs trying to decide what to do next.

He left the large house and walked out onto the wet streets of London.

"It rained again," America sighed, "It rains to much in England."

The hero walked along the busy streets of London and through puddles of water that reflected the street lights in a golden glow that was almost blinding to look at.

"Hey, idiota!" America stopped at the familiar voice.

"Crap, he doesn't sound happy," he whispered under his breath, before turning around and smiling, "Sup dude!"

"Shut up," he snapped back angrly.

"Well someone's upset," America replied sarcastically.

"Of course I'm upset, idiot. Now I have a simple question to ask you. Do you think you can handle that?" Romano asked impatiently. He was already upset and the bad London weather wasn't helping it.

"Yeah, I guess I can. What do you want to know?"

"Did you shoot my fratello?"

"Why would-"

"It's a simple question. Yes or no? I don't need to hear anything else," Romano interrupter before America could finish his question.

"Someone's crancky," America muttered under his breath, "No I didn't."

Romano studied him for a minute trying to figure out if he was telling the truth.

"Okay, do you know who did?" Romano asked still staring down the other nation. America shifted uncomfortably under Romano's scrutinizing gaze.

"You do, don't you," it was a statement not a question, "Who did it? Was it Russia?"

America tried to remain calm and prayed that he wouldn't mention-

"Was it England?" America stiffened at the mention of his friend and he immediately thought back to the nation who was so utterly broken he had willingly cried in front of another nation.

"It was, wasn't it," again it was a statement not a question and Romano said it with more venom in his voice that America thought was possible, "I'm going to kill him."

Romano turned on his heel and ran down the street, water splashing up behind him. America watched him go before pulling out his phone and calling someone he hadn't called in a long time.

"Hey, I need your help," He said weakly.

* * *

**Yeah, this chapter took a long time to write. That scene with England and America was hard to write, I tried to keep it in character and I'm not sure if I succeeded in doing it. Let me know what you think please. Reviews make me happy. :)**


	6. Storm

**Hey, sorry it took so long. I've had school and I struggled writing this chapter because of all that happens in it. I'm trying to keep the characters as in character as possible. I don't want anyone to be OC unless it is absolutely necessary. Also I had been getting headaches from reading and stuff so now I have glasses.**

**I do not own Hetalia and if I did Spain would get more screen time.**

"Hey, I need your help," He said weakly.

"What's wrong? Do you have too many tomatoes? Can I have some?" the thickly accented voice on the other end questioned.

"No, um, Spain...this is about something else," America said in a serious tone.

"Oh," Spain said, "What do you need."

"It's about Romano," Spain flinched upon hearing his friends name.

"What did he do?" he asked afraid of what he would hear.

"He was totally questioning me about who shot Italy. Asking me all these weird questions. W-well he figured out it was... England and he... um... said he is going to kill him. He has a gun," America explained.

"I'll be there soon. Try and keep Romano from doing something stupid, please," Spain grabbed his keys and ran out the door as he hung up on America.

He was once again glad he had followed Romano.

Spain thought about the irony of the situation as he ran out of his hotel room and down the stairs two at a time. He jogged down the wet streets of London, water splashing up behind him, to England's house thankful for the short distance.

As he ran he thought back to the first time he had followed Romano somewhere. That was many years ago, back when Romano had decided to go home and Turkey had tried to kidnap him. He had followed him then because he was worried for the nation's safety. This time was different. This time he followed Romano not because he was worried for the Italian but more so because he was worried for the safety of whoever would be on the receiving end of the Italian's anger.

Spain jogged up the long walk way to England's front door and under the protection of the patio. The rain had picked up again and had quickly soaked through his coat. Spain looked up and saw the door had been knocked it and off it's hinges.

"Romano, please don't do this," Spain sighed before he entered the house.

"There you are!" America hollered from the base of the stairs. "Come on!"

Spain heard yelling from up stairs and quickly followed America into a large room.

What he saw only confirmed his suspicions.

Romano stood with his back to the door. He clutched a gun is his right hand and held it at his side. His left hand was clenched in a fist and he was screaming in rapid Italian. England was backed up to the wall. His face was red and tears stained his cheeks. He made no effort to wipe them away and instead cradled his jaw in his hands where a dark bruise was forming.

Spain didn't wait for Romano to raise his arm before he tackled him. The gun clattered to the floor and slid under the bed. Romano struggled under the firm grip of the Spaniard.

_He had to get that gun! Why did the stupid Spaniard have to push him? Didn't he know what that English Bastard did? Why did he have to drop the gun when he did? Why didn't he shoot England sooner? Why? Why? Why? _Romano thought in anger as he gave one last shove at Spain and managed to roll over on top of him.

Romano jumped up and ran towards where he thought the gun was but was stopped short by a pair of strong arms wrapping around his waist.

"H-hey! Let go of me!" Romano was once again struggling for his freedom. And the gun.

"No! Romano, you need to calm down!" America shouted, struggling to maintain his hold on the enraged Italian.

"Calm down! How the heck can I calm down?" Romano screamed at America.

"Romano, you need to calm down. Shooting England won't solve anything," Spain pleaded.

"Well he seemed to think that shooting Veneziano would solve everything," Romano spat.

"And do you think he's happy about what he did? Look at him, Romano!" Spain pointed at England who still stood in the corner.

"Well if he felt even the smallest shred of guilt for what he did, he would have apologized," Romano retorted, venom dripping from every word.

"I did apologize. I apologized to Italy earlier today," England now stood mere feet from Romano, hands clenching the fabric of his pants.

"You may have apologized to Italy but what about me?" Romano's voice had dropped to just above a whisper and was eerily calm. He glared into England's emerald eyes not breaking eye contact as he talked. "What about me and Germany and Japan? We had to sit for four weeks waiting, not knowing if Veneziano would live or die. Don't you think we deserve an apology. You shot Vene but you nearly killed us."

With that Romano ripped himself from America's hold and stormed out of the room, down the stairs, and out the door. A loud bang from the door being slammed was the only noise that announced his departure.

Silence followed.

Italy was sleeping peacefully on the couch while Germany worked on the paperwork that had accumulated over the past six weeks. It was quiet and calm a nice break from the craziness that had filled their lives for the past several weeks. The only way anyone would know there was someone home would be from Italy's soft breathing and the turning of pages in Germany's office and occasional phone calls from other nations wanting to check on Italy.

The front door was slammed open, banging against the wall and effectively breaking to the peace. Romano stormed into the room, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Ve~ Fratello?" Italy asked, sitting up on the couch.

"Why didn't you tell me it was that Scone- eating Idiota that shot you?" Romano questioned loudly.

"Ve~ Romano, I can explain," Italy's voice trembled.

"I don't want to hear any excuses!"

"What's going on down here?" Germany asked running down the stairs.

"England shot Veneziano and he didn't tell us," Romano's voice dropped dangerously low as he pointed an accusing finger at Italy.

"What?" Germany asked, "Italy is this true?"

Italy nodded in defeat.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Romano accentuated each word individually.

"Ve~ I'm sorry! I- I didn't want anyone to hurt him," Italy cried.

"He shot you Veneziano! And you're trying to protect him?" hot angry tears pricked at Romano's eyes as he yelled at his brother.

Germany silently watched the two brothers argue before one thought dawned on him.

"Italy… what were you and England talking about at the market?" Germany tentatively asked, praying England wasn't going to try and hurt him again.

"He- he wa-"

"What the hell is going on?" Prussia sauntered into the room.

Germany sighed in exasperation, "Bruder, what do you want?"

"Well, I heard yelling and thought the awesome me should find out what the hell is going on."

"You know what? I don't even care anymore! Go ahead and defend England. See if I care!" Romano seethed in anger.

"Fratello," Italy pleaded, tears trailed down his pink cheeks and he shook in fear.

"No! I'm done!" Romano turned on his heel and marched out of the house once again slamming the door behind him.

**I hope you enjoyed this. I'll try and update the next chapter sooner but I might not be able to. Let me know what you think please. I love reading reviews and getting back any kind of feedback. **


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